Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Mutilation out of sight,
The knife could slip and it just might.
I call out to you,
Hoping that my lovely thoughts are true.

You see the knife dripping,
Dripping with blood, my blood.
Holding you but I'm still slipping,
Slipping to the point of losing my grip.

Help me be a better person,
Oh my dearest love, help me.
I'm on the edge,
The edge of cutting.

All of a sudden, I don't have to do it,
It's done for me.
You're there, standing in front of me,
Forcing the blade deep into my chest.

You pull it out, I'm laying there, soaked,
Watching me slowly die.
Looking at the blade, the blood dripping,
Dripping with my blood...